Like Drowning on Air
by Katerina Riley
Summary: Uther is a psychotic small-town Mayor who thinks no one is worthy enough for his son, Arthur. When Gwen and Merlin move into town, they change Arthur for the better, not realizing the anger Uther carried underneath his cold facade. Then Merlin goes missing...just like all those others girls. But will he at least be found? Hopefully alive? Arwen! No slash! Completely and utterly AU!
1. Chapter 1

**My first Merlin fic! I'm so excited :D I've actually have a lot of Merlin fics planned (and a muli-chapter Sherlock), but school kept getting in my way. Stupid school -.-* Anyway, this fic features insane!Uther, protective!Arthur, and unfortunately, magic-less!Merlin. It just wouldn't have worked if Merlin had any magic… (However, whenever I write more Merlin fics, our warlock will have his magic returned. Yay!) **

**So this is a birthday present to my dear friend. Happy seventeenth! I was going to post this as a one-shot, but it's still not completely done and since you're about a million miles away… Well, yeah :'( So I hope you like this Sasha! Happy birthday! I love you, sister! *heart sign*And to everyone else, I hope you like this too!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. *remembers the way it ended* *goes and cries in a corner* Yeah, I don't own Merlin... D'X**

* * *

_Like Drowning on Air_

The man stepped back to admire his work.

It had been at least a year since he's done this, but his hands worked effortlessly, as if it had been only yesterday. From all the fantasies he's reincarnated, it might as well been yesterday. Of course this one was better. This fantasy was real and it was _flawless_.

The boy –he's never taken a boy before; it was quite interesting how he needed to conjure a different strategy to capture him efficiently– is certainly his best work yet. The rope was tightly secured on his wrists, the tools were ready to be used, and not a soul had seen the two males (one of which being unconscious) leave the house and enter the woods. The boy was perfectly subdued and the opportunity could not have come at a better time. _Nothing_ could go wrong.

The kidnaped boy, though bloody and beaten, gave the older man a glare. He struggled to get out of his bonds, but they were too tight around his wrists. Thanks to the drugs he received from his kidnapper, the boy's vision was as blurry as his mind felt and it hurt when he looked around too quickly.

"What do you want?" The boy croaked out, his throat dry from misuse and lack of water. When was the last time he drank something? Or eaten for the matter? The black-haired boy couldn't remember.

"How on earth," the older man mused, completely ignoring his victim's question, "Did you manage to befriend my son?"

The boy in the wall blinked. What? _That's_ what this was about? The man's _son_?

Had it really been only yesterday when everything was normal? Well, yesterday _morning_ had been normal. (Or as close to normal as life ever gets for the boy.) He wasn't sure what exactly happened. One moment he had been running up the stairs to retrieve something for his friend, the next he was waking up in a dark room, strapped to a table with the manic man standing over him and _smiling_. That smile will haunt the boy for the rest of his life. Most likely, his very _short_ life.

Suddenly, pain exploded in his gut. The man had punched him. Again. He doubled over, knowing that he would've been on his knees had it not been for the ropes which held his arms firmly above his head (and in turn, holding the rest of his body up).

"Answer me!" The man's voice was murderous.

"No-! I don't- know!" Came the strangled reply.

They had been over this already. All of yesterday afternoon was filled with these questions. The psychopath wouldn't take "I don't know" for an answer. Neither would he take any of the boy's sarcastic remarks. After the fifth slash on his arm, the boy decided that sarcasm probably wasn't the best response to give. Apparently, neither was the retelling of how the two boy's (the man's son and the man's victim) friendship had formed.

"How does Arthur not see you for what you really are?" The boy murmured to himself, not realizing he spoke out loud.

Another punch was thrown, his time it was aimed at his jaw.

"You don't get to say his name!" The man practically screamed, his voice in hysterics. "A no-good, lowlife shouldn't utter the name of such a marvelous man. No one on earth is worthy of my son!"

"News flash," the boy wheezed, "This is the twenty-first century. We don't worship men like gods anymore."

His captor sneered and the boy quailed, suddenly afraid. He didn't want to be drugged again. Please... Not again.

To his surprise, he wasn't drugged. Instead, the man spoke to him, using his name –well, his nickname technically– correctly for the first time since they met nearly a year ago, saying it as if it were the foulest word in the dictionary.

"_Merlin..._"

Merlin flinched. No one had ever said his name like that before…and it _terrified_ him. It wasn't the first time he wondered if this man would kill him.

"I am Mayor. Yes?" Arthur's dad's voice was calm. He spoke as if on a business meeting. But Merlin could hear the underlying malice under it. He could practically feel the desire this man held beneath the surface. The desire to tear Merlin limb from limb. To lacerate his body over and over again. To gaze into Merlin's eyes and watch as the life was drained out of them slowly and painfully.

Merlin swallowed thickly. "Yes...sir."

The man smiled coldly. He liked being called 'sir.'

"So that means what I say goes, yes?"

Merlin, however afraid he was, tried to answer truthfully (albeit, timidly), "...Not all the time sir."

Apparently, he didn't hear Merlin. His focus was on the area surrounding Merlin: the stone wall. Dark pleasure was alighted in his eyes. As Merlin glanced around himself –his brain was finally starting to clear– he realized in horror that this wasn't _just_ a hole in the wall, he wasn't _just_ tied up. The wall was _hollow_. And the rope binding Merlin's hands wound up to the ceiling. A picture was beginning to form and Merlin didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Uther?" He asked hesitantly, using his kidnapper's first name.

"You should be happy," Uther said. "Proud at the very least."

"Wh-why?" However, Merlin wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer.

Uther ginned. It was the type of grin a mad-man would have. One that knew he was crazy and fully accepted it as normal. Using it to do anything and everything he pleased in the most malevolent way possible.

"You're the first boy to be brought down here." Merlin's captor pointed to various spots on the wall beside Merlin. "Jeanette, Morgan, Cleo, Hannah... And Merlin."

Merlin stared in absolute terror at the finger pointed at him. He remembered all those stories he heard when he first arrived in the small town. All those girls that had gone missing? Didn't they have the same names?

"You," Merlin said horrified. "It was you. You kidnapped those girls."

"Well aren't you a smart one? No one's figured me out yet. And no one will. Except-" he shook his index finger at Merlin "-you were starting to figure it out. Whenever my son would invite you and that blasted girl over, I could practically see the wheels in your little head whirling and twirling." Merlin didn't answer him, but his silence was enough; Uther was right, Merlin _had _been thinking there was some connection to the missing girls and Arthur's dad. (Not that he though Uther _himself _had done the kidnapping. Only been a part of it…somehow…) "I had to stop you before you could tell anyone. And with you being a friend of Arthur's, well... That just made this even more enjoyable."

Uther picked up a brick, causing new waves of fear to surge through Merlin. He stared at the brick as if not really seeing the object in his hand. Finally, Uther turned to Merlin, a curious expression on his face.

"But what I don't understand is, why you? Out of all the rich, proper friends Arthur could choose, why _you_?" Uther searched Merlin's face earnestly, in an honest attempt to understand his son's choices.

Merlin couldn't answer. He wished he could; he really wished he knew why too. Merlin honestly had no idea why Arthur chose _him_ of all people as a friend.

They started off on the wrong foot, practically hating the other. When Merlin and his family first moved to "Arthur's Town," the two boys nearly beat each other up the very first day. (Okay, _Arthur_ nearly beat _Merlin_ up.) However, all that changed when they were to be partners on the history project the school assigned. The two-month-long history project. Merlin remembered feeling nothing but dread. Arthur was a prat and a bully; there was _no way_ the two of them would _ever_ get along. However, that supposed fact was proven false when, somehow, Arthur and Merlin _actually_ became friends. It wasn't until Arthur saved Merlin from near-death drowning experience –curtsey of Arthur's former friends: the school bullies– that the two boys realized how close and strong their friendship was. Merlin repaid Arthur by helping him gather the courage to ask Gwen out, who liked Arthur just as much as he liked her. (They both kept denying their obvious feelings.)

Most brothers would not help their best friend get their own sister, but Merlin was always considered different. It was possibly because Gwen wasn't his real sister; her family just adopted him when his parents died. Merlin had been nine when they had drowned. Ever since, Merlin avoided bodies of water as much as he could. (It was much easier to avoid boats and cruise ships than large areas of water.) Thankfully, his family had been very close to Gwen's. Gwen, Merlin, and Elyan already felt like siblings, curtsey of knowing one another since each of their births; it wasn't that difficult for Merlin to accept them as his new family. Painful, sometimes awkward, but not difficult. So of _course_ he'd help Arthur get Gwen. But now... Now he wasn't sure if it had been so wise.

"What are you doing!?" Merlin cried out suddenly.

Uther had begun staking the bricks on top of each other...right in front of Merlin. Uther didn't answer, but Merlin didn't need him to.

"No! Stop! Please stop!" Merlin thrashed, trying to unbind his hands. One of his bare feet managed to kick Uther in the nose.

Merlin's psychotic captor roared as he fell backward, off his hunches and onto his rear. He clutched his nose as he glared at Merlin.

"You'll pay for that," Uther sneered.

"Please no!" Merlin was well aware he was crying, but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to die. He didn't want Gwen to die either and he knew that the moment Uther found the chance, he would capture Gwen and do to her exactly what he's done the previous girls (and currently doing to Merlin). There was no way Merlin would allow that. Not to his sister.

"You're smart, you should know begging will not help." Uther stood to his feet and grabbed Merlin's forearm, squeezing it tightly. The blood dripping from his nose somehow made him much more terrifying. "Now stop moving or I will break this twig you call an arm."

Merlin obediently stopped squirming.

"Good boy," Uther said as he ruffled Merlin's hair. The boy tried to squirm away from the hand atop his head, but it was difficult since he was tied. At least his strength was starting to return, the drugs Uther had given him almost out of his system. Of course, _that_ was when Uther reached into his pocket and produced a small syringe. Merlin began thrashing again, the threat forgotten.

"No! Not that! Please-"

"Shut up, boy!" Uther hissed. He glanced down at the syringe, squinting. "How old are you again?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Uther tsked, "Oh, come now Merlin. You don't want to be overdosed do you? Nasty business, being overdosed. Wouldn't you want to go out with a bang? Nothing boring like being overdosed."

If he could, Merlin would've throttled the man. _'Nothing boring like being overdosed.'_ Why on earth _wouldn't_ Merlin want to die peacefully and _boringly_? It might not be "fun," but at least it wasn't painful. Merlin opened his mouth to inform the maniac that he would rather be overdosed right here, right now that say his proper name, but Uther apparently thought ahead. Quick as lightning, Uther once again grabbed Merlin's "twig-of-an-arm" and squeezed. His eyes said everything. _Answer truthfully or your bone gets crushed._

A noise that was a mixture of a whimper and a groan came unbidden out of Merlin's throat. Painfully he whispered, "Seventeen."

Uther nodded. "Oh that's right, summer birthday, isn't it?" He didn't wait for Merlin to answer. "Can't believe this peasant shares Arthur's birthday; shouldn't have held him back a year," Uther muttered to himself. Merlin wisely decided not to comment. The only noise he made was a soft grunt when his head was forced to the side and tilted at an uncomfortable angle. He knew what Uther was looking for. Without any hesitation, the syringe was stabbed into Merlin's neck.

"There. That should be good."

The bone-chilling coldness crept up Merlin's spine once again. His arms started to tingle, his head pounded, and his vision –which returned to him not too long ago– was beginning to blur, while darkness clouded his peripheral sight. Merlin heard the bricks being piled on top of one another and the sons of mortar being slathered on and his stomach did a queasy flip-flop. He was truly going to die down here, wasn't he? He'd never see Gwen again. He'd never see Arthur or Elyan or Gwaine or anybody. He'd never get the chance to tell Freya how he feels… He's going to die down here and no one will ever know.

Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard a question being asked of him.

"I could spare you a lot of pain, if you simply told me where the Gwen girl is. I'll release you if you tell me."

But Merlin knew Uther was lying. He couldn't –_wouldn't_– betray his sister like that.

"Never," he whispered. Then the familiar blackness washed over him once again. It was almost like drowning, he realized in muted terror. But rather than water, it was blackness that surrounded him and filled his lungs. Suffocation was like drowning on air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Regarding their last names, I looked it up and apparently Gwen's last name is Lyonesse. I decided to keep it like that :) And for those of you who've read **_**Only a Boy **_**by Riddell Lee yes, I kind of got Merlin's last name from that. More or less. It just makes sense! Emrys. Evans. It seems connected, right? I thought so at least :p (And if you haven't read that story I suggest you do! Right after this chapter! It's amazing!)**

**Disclaimer: How much of this do I own? The answer is simple: Zip. Zero. Nada.**

* * *

_Like Drowning on Air_

Arthur was having the best time he could imagine. Normally, he would cringe at the thought of something as girly as a picnic, but Merlin had suggested it and Arthur couldn't deny its power. Apparently, girls love things like picnics and walks in the woods and other stuff that involves quality time. Of course, not all girls are like that, but Gwen is not one of those exceptions. Everything would be perfect except for one tiny little problem…

"I'm so worried about him Arthur!"

That problem's name was _Merlin_.

"No one has seen him! Not this morning and not yesterday. I'm scared!"

Merlin _would_ be the one to suggest such a wonderful date idea and then ruin it by –of all the things– his _absence_. Only _Mer_lin could pull off such a feat. Arthur had hoped that this morning would be reserved for him and Gwen with _no other distractions_. Why did Merlin have to be such a reckless idiot and go get lost? Gwen was too nervous to pay Arthur the kind of attention he so desperately craved from her.

"I'm sure he's alright," Arthur said, trying (and failing) to calm his girlfriend down. "You said he's done stuff like this before."

"Yes," Gwen stated rather impatiently. "But that was before we moved here. Before," she faltered. Arthur finished her thought.

"Before he had friends you mean."

Gwen nodded tearfully. Being a proper boyfriend, Arthur moved to comfort her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she buried her face in Arthur's chest.

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Arthur said soothingly.

The two stood quietly, immersed in each other's comforting presence. Even if he didn't show it, Arthur _was_ worried about the younger boy. Lord only knows what sort of trouble he could be in.

The quiet intimacy was interrupted by the sharp ringing of a mobile. It was Gwen's. She reluctantly detached herself from Arthur's arms and hurried over to the ringing machine.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked hopefully. "Oh, hi Elyan... No, we haven't seen him. I don't know what to tell mum either! ...Y-You're probably right. Okay, I love you. Bye." She hung up wearily.

"What's he probably right about?" Arthur asked.

"He thinks we should phone Scotland Yard." Gwen sighed, "But if they get involved..." She trailed off helplessly.

"That means it's serious?" Arthur finished for her. "Gwen, if anyone can find Merlin, the police can."

Gwen bit her lip. Counting today, it had been two days since she's seen her brother. As the oldest child, she always felt responsible for Merlin and Elyan's safety (even though only about half a year older than Merlin). But now she couldn't help but feel like a total failure. Merlin was nowhere to be found... Was it something she said? Had she missed some vital piece of information that said how depressed Merlin was? He was always happy. Maybe that was just a façade. Maybe-

"Hey, hey, hey," Arthur gently cupped Gwen's chin in his hand and lifted it up so she would meet his eyes. "Don't beat yourself up," he ordered. "This is not your fault, you understand? You didn't do anything to cause Merlin to disappear." Arthur looked so convinced at this statement that Gwen couldn't help but believe it too. "Now come on, let's go to my house. Maybe my father can find out some information."

Arthur began to pick up the remainders of their picnic and stuffed it in the back of his convertible. Opening the passenger side door, he offered Gwen a hand.

Gwen giggled. "Why thank you kind, gentleman knight."

"Anything for malady," Arthur said giving a dramatic bow, which caused Gwen to giggle some more.

She missed this. Oh dear lord, she missed this. As children, Gwen, Elyan, and Merlin were always playing knights and dragons. (Though Merlin would always insist on being a sorcerer.) In fact, that's where Merlin got his nickname. At one point, the three children were so into dragon, knight, and sorcerer lore that they researched everything there was so know about it. (Even after all these years, the three of them were still experts at all the myths involving those three things.) After discovering the powerful warlock named Merlin, Benny wanted everyone to call him that. It didn't really take effect until after his parents drowned. Balinor –Benny for short– was a family name that both father and son had shared, but Merlin had refused to acknowledge that name as a part of him anymore. It was too painful to remember his parents. And when your name is the same as your father's, the pain is ever-present. That's why he went by 'Merlin' now. "Much better this way," Merlin had explained to Gwen one day. But he never really elaborated on the reasons, nor had she asked him to.

"We're here," Arthur announced suddenly. Gwen looked up startled. She didn't realize her reminiscing had engulfed her so. She glanced over at Arthur, but he was giving her an apologetic smile; he understood what was going on in her head. Well, more or less. Gwen didn't know if Merlin told him about his past life and she, for one, didn't feel very inclined to bring it up whether he had told Arthur or not.

Arthur walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, "Let's go inside. My father should be home."

Taking the offered hand, Gwen took a deep breath to calm her anxieties.

"Yes, let's."

x~X~x

Uther watched from the third-story window as his son pulled up with that...commoner. He would've preferred to use a different, much better-suited word, but he needed to get in the proper mindset. He couldn't allow the witch to know what he was up to.

Taking his time, Uther began walking down the stairs. He didn't feel rushed to go meet his son and sordid girlfriend immediately. At least that imbecile boy that Arthur has –_had_– the nerve to call his 'best friend' won't be there.

Uther smiled at that, remembering what was in the basement of the unknown cottage in the woods. He glanced at his watch. Poor little Merlin has less than two hours to go. An image of the boy trapped inside a brick wall suffocating came to Uther's mind.

His smiled broadened.

Schooling his face as he walked into the kitchen, Uther regarded his son with a cool, "Arthur." He ignored his son's companion.

"Father, I was wondering if you could help us," his son said.

"I will try."

Arthur grinned. "Well we were wondering if you heard anything about Merlin lately-" Arthur faltered as he saw his father's face turn into a scowl.

"Arthur," Uther began, "Just because I am the mayor of this town doesn't mean I keep tabs on every single citizen." Realizing he might've been a bit harsher than he originally intended, Uther tried to backtrack by smiling kindly. "Perhaps he is simply giving you and your girlfriend-" he tried to say the word without venom in his voice "-some time alone?"

Gwen looked uncomfortable and Arthur looked doubtful. "Maybe..." He said without much conviction.

"Have you looked for him?" Uther asked.

"Not exactly," Arthur said reluctantly.

"He didn't come home last night and he was gone all day yesterday. We were hoping to see him today," Arthur's enchantresssaid softly. She looked upset and Arthur took her hand in his. Uther glanced coldly at their contact before he filed the emotion away. No one noticed.

Laughing good-naturedly, the town's Mayor said, "Well you can't expect to find him if you don't look."

Arthur nodded, but he was still weary of his father's actions. Something was different –wrong– about him today. Once in a while he's get like this, but it hasn't happened in years. Not since Cleo had disappeared.

"You're right, Father." Arthur tuned to Gwen, "Perhaps we should check the woods? That creepy place always seems to comfort him."

Gwen gave her boyfriend a small reprimanding look –_How on earth can he be sarcastic at a time like this?_– but she nodded nonetheless.

"I agree."

"The woods?" Uther echoed. "That's a big area. You would need to split up." He made sure his voice sounded correct. The perfect mixture of fatherly concern and authority. Sounding giddy would not have been appropriate. But it was hard not to. This would be the perfect time to take the witch!

"Split up?" The quiver of fear ebbed in Gwen's voice brought glee to Uther Pendragan's masochistic heart.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

"Fine," Gwen answered, mustering up as mug courage as she can. "But do we have to split up?"

Uther faked a sad smile, "If you're nervous, I could go with you if you'd like."

"Um..." The girl glanced at her mayor, obvious apprehension in her eyes.

Uther felt a jolt of fear –albeit a very small jolt– as the thought of the Merlin boy having told Gwen is suspicions. Had he? Will she go freely, or will she need to be forced? Whatever the case, Uther must save his son from ruining his life. Something must've happened. A fall or some other traumatic injury to cause him to actually _like_ these lower class riff-raffs.

"Sure, that'd be fine. Thank you."

Uther was startled out of his anxious thoughts as Gwen spoke. Perhaps Merlin had been honest, and kept his thoughts about his best friend's father to himself. _Smart boy_, Uther thought. Had he told anyone, more people would've died. Bad for Uther's incessant blood-lust; good for self-preservation. Killing too many people at once would give him away.

"Let's start at the woods behind our house here," Uther said to Gwen. "Arthur, start at the other end. That way we can't accidentally miss Marvin."

"Merlin," Arthur automatically corrected. _Honestly, when will my father get his own son's friend's name right? _Arthur thought tiredly.

"Yes, him," Uther waved his hand the way one might in dismissing a servant. "Well we best be off. We don't want to call for any officers if the boy is fine."

"Of course not, Father." Arthur kissed Gwen on the check before running out to his car. No one noticed Uther stiffen at this show of affection.

_How in the devil's name,_ he pondered in anger_, did that witch charm my son into liking her. She will pay for her crimes. _

"Come along dear," Uther pulled Gwen throughout his house by her hand. "Don't want to doddle now do we?"

"N-No?"

Malevolent delight warmed Uther's cold heart. He loved this feeling. Unfortunately, he never got the same amount of satisfaction as he did with Jeannette. Oh it was glorious! The way she screamed… Uther will never forget her; his first. The first girl to actual like his son. If only she had been rich (and boyfriend-less). But alas, her family had no power. At the genesis of Uther's murders, he told himself he killed Jeannette for begin unfaithful (she might not have _actively _gone after Arthur, but as the saying goes, it's the thought that counts), but Uther knows better now. He knows he real reason he commits them. Not just to protect Arthur, but for the pleasure as well. The intoxicating pleasure.

A year later, Morgan, the town slut, had actually tried to pursue his son. He was only fifteen! Putting her hand on his chest… Uther found great ecstasy her death. But not as much as Cleo's. Arthur's first 'official' girlfriend. Uther managed to tolerate her at first –rich father, rich mother, very upper class attitude– but then the relationship starting getting too serious. He had to put a stop to that. Arthur had been devastated and for two years, he didn't so much as look at another girl, which was fine with his father. He grew colder, tougher. And even though his son didn't notice the sweet, innocent Hannah, Uther stopped her too. Last year, she was the unlucky girl to be entranced with Arthur. Uther couldn't blame the thirteen-year-old, but she still needed to be punished.

Four years, four girls. The police were baffled, the residents scared, and all the while, Arthur acted indifferent. Until that blasted family moved in. The Lyonesse family with that Evans boy.

Somehow, the boy befriended Arthur. And not soon after, the Gwen-girl used her seductive charms to entice Uther's beloved son. Not even Cleo had been as powerful as Gwen or Merlin and they _changed_ Arthur. He was kinder, nicer. But what terrified Uther was the resemblance this new Arthur had to the toddler Arthur. Uther thought he destroyed those characteristics of Arthur; no son of Uther should have such weaknesses! Kindness and compassion don't do anything, but get people killed. They get your wife killed!

_Stop_, Uther told himself firmly. _Don't dwell on it anymore._

"Are you alright?" Gwen asked, concern touching her voice.

"Fine," Uther snapped.

He was going to destroy the witch just as he destroyed the boy. With them gone, Arthur will return to normal. And he will pick a proper girlfriend. One with power and money. One worthy for his son.

In the back of his mind though, he knew no one was worthy. They would all die. Gwen wasn't the first and she won't be last.


	3. Chapter 3

**The ending of this chapter was really starting to bug me; not wanting itself to be written and all. But now here I am, 2 in the morning on March 4, and everything is finally communing together. Amazing how the mind works isn't it? :p**

**Edit: March 14. Happy Pie Day everyone! I'm updating early because I shall be gone Friday through Sunday. Enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: Merlin doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

Darkness. No wait, something was coming... Something bright...

Gwen blinked away the black vision, but what she saw made her skin crawl.

Underground. She must be underground. There were no windows, the air around her was stale, and to the far side of the room were stairs leading up. She tried to remember what happened.

Uther took her outside. They were walking, making awkward small talk. In the middle of the woods was a clearing. There was something in it. A house? No, a cottage. It was beautiful. Gwen remembered admiring its architecture when a blunt force smashed into her skull and she slumped forward. She felt nauseous as she recalled the green grass rushing up to meet her face.

A sudden realization dawned on Gwen. She couldn't move her arms. In fact, they were tied together and raised above her head. Looking around, her throat contracted in fear. She was in a wall. Literally in a hollowed out wall. The stories of the missing girls filled Gwen's head, which only terrified her even more.

"Hello."

A figured casually walked into view.

Gwen stifled a scream. It was Uther. Uther must've done this! But why?

As if he read her thoughts, Uther threw his head back and laughed. "Right now, I bet that puny pathetic brain of yours is wondering why I'm doing this." Uther leaned in close, inches from Gwen's face and snarled, "It's because you don't deserve him. No one does."

He walked out of sight for a few seconds before returning with a wheelbarrow full of bricks and a bucket of mortar. Gwen's petrified mind somehow put two and two together and realized what her boyfriend's father was about to do.

"No!" She sobbed. "Please don't! Please!"

A dark chuckle escaped Uther's lips. "It all falls on deaf ears. No one has persuaded me to let them go. Not even that fool boy Marcus."

"…_Merlin_?" Gwen asked in horror.

"Oh yes, Merlin." Uther checked his watch, "I'd say he's got about an hour or so until complete suffocation. Until all his air is, _poof_, gone." Once again, the maniac roared in an amused laughter. "Oh, this is all so much fun!"

To Gwen's absolute horror, he begins to hum. It's a sickly cheerful tune that makes Gwen want to vomit, scream, and cry all at the same time. A gag is put over her mouth. While Gwen can make noises, its volume is greatly diminished so that no matter how hard she tries to scream, it's rarely heard above a whisper.

All she can do is watch. She prays for a miracle. For Arthur to come back and save her. But this isn't a Disney movie. This won't have a happy ending. Gwen knows she's going to die. And it pains her even more to know not only will Merlin die, but if Arthur ever found out his father's true nature, it would shatter him. Her boyfriend's life would crumble knowing that his father killed all those girls, including his best friend and girlfriend.

_You had the best two months of your life at least_, Gwen thought to herself. _Remember those days Gwen. Think of happier times. _

x~X~x

Arthur forgot his phone. How on earth could be forget his phone? Keys? Maybe. Sunglasses? Probably. But his phone? Never!

...Except apparently today.

Cursing, Arthur quickly drove back to his house. His phone was his connection to everything. The Internet, his plans, and most importantly, his friends! How on earth could he contact his father and Gwen if he found Merlin and was without his phone? Or if his father and Gwen find Merlin, how can they tell Arthur the relieving news _if he doesn't have his phone_? It was a good thing he wasn't too far from the house.

Screeching his tires to a halt, Arthur leapt out of his car and ran straight for the door. He vaguely remembered Merlin calling his house more of a Victorian mansion or a medieval castle than an actual house, but Arthur pushed that thought aside. What use was it now?

"Found you," Arthur muttered, seeing his phone lying on the counter. He checked his screen. Nothing popped up; no new messages. Arthur doubled checked his battery and groaned. Of course his phone would choose to start dying _now_ of all times. He knew there wasn't time to plug it into the wall, but maybe he could charge it in his car…

Taking two at a time, Arthur raced up the stairs and burst into his room. He found the car charger on his counter top. _Thank God_, he muttered to himself. Usually his room was so messy, you couldn't see the floor. He was about to exit his room when something caught his eye. It was one of those red scarfs Merlin was always so keen on wearing. Arthur bent down to pick it up. Why was it in _his_ room?

A thought struck Arthur so suddenly, he had to sit down. Yesterday, he had asked Merlin via text if he could grab Arthur's wallet, which Arthur had accidentally left at home. He was talking Gwen to the movies and he didn't want his girlfriend to pay, which unfortunately, she had to. It was strange because Merlin had texted back with a _You dollop-head. I'll be right there_ (unlike Arthur, he preferred to use proper grammar instead of text-speak), but he never showed. And no one saw him since yesterday morning at breakfast. Why didn't Arthur connect the dots sooner? Merlin must've disappeared sometime after answering Arthur's message. Arthur felt a bit guilty not seeing his best friend's favorite clothing item last night, but in his defense, Arthur had gotten home late and he doesn't possess night vision superpowers. It also doesn't help that his room is a complete disaster. (Maybe he should've taken Father's advice and gotten a maid or something…)

But that still leaves the question as to why Merlin's a scarf was in Arthur's room anyway. Why would he so carelessly leave his favorite–

_Unless he never left_, a dark side of Arthur's brain thought.

_Shut up_, he told it, but it didn't listen.

_Maybe someone took Merlin, right in your own house._

_That's not possible_, Arthur argued with himself. _The only other person that was at this house all day that day was my...father..._

_..._

Arthur bolted from his room, nearly slipping on the polished wood floors. Bursting into his father's chambers, Arthur immediately began ripping open the drawers and tearing away the folded clothes.

_Where is it? Where is it?! Found it!_

Arthur produced a wooden box from the hollowed out drawer. It had been years since he saw this box; Uther did his best to hide it from Arthur, who hadn't the faintest as to why. But for some reason, as he thought of his missing best friend, that box and its contents popped into his head and Arthur's body had moved before his mind commanded it.

With shaking hands, Arthur undid the latch. Inside were small trinkets. The first thing he saw was a brooch. His mother's brooch. And there was a bundle of hair that belonged to her too. Arthur never knew his mother; she had died giving birth to her one and only son. Arthur knew how much it hurt his father to talk –or even think– about his late wife.

Inside the box however, held more than Arthur's mother's brooch and lock of hair. Actually, it held more trinkets than it did last time Arthur peered curiously into the box.

_What am I doing?_ Arthur's hand hovered over the open box. Why on earth had he even thought of it? It must've been...two, maybe three, years since he last saw it. He'd been fifteen... Three years it was.

Arthur sighed. Obviously the exhaustion (and though he wouldn't admit it: the terror) was finally getting to him. This wouldn't help Merlin. Arthur started to shut the lid, but as he looked upon the box's contents one last time, something caught his eye. A ring. _The_ ring. The ring he had given Cleo. But how can that be? Cleo was wearing it when she had disappeared...

Arthur rummaged through the box's items. Some things looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place them. The grossest part was the locks of hair. There were six locks, five if you excluded Arthur's mother's. Arthur couldn't figure out what his father was doing with this stuff. He understood the stuff belonging to his mom (even if the lock of hair was gross, he understood the sentimental reasons behind it), but the rest of it? Arthur knew he father was a bit different from his mate's dads, but seriously? A hair fetish? That's just plain creepy.

Arthur picked up a necklace, one that he doubted his mother would wear. (He's heard so many stories from so many people that Arthur feels he actually knows his mom on some level.) The necklace had a thin, leathery strap as the chain. It bore a single gem. It looked like a family heirloom. There was something embroidered on it...

The necklace slipped through Arthur's fingers and into the floor (where it thankfully didn't break). Arthur had seen that necklace before. It was Merlin's necklace. Actually, it was Merlin's father's necklace. Arthur remembered asking Merlin about it one time. He had replied saying he can't forget about his father completely can he?

The blood in Arthur's body ran cold. He couldn't figure out what was going on, but he didn't like it. Frankly, it scared him. The images forming in his mind made Arthur want to run away and forget about everything.

But he didn't.

Instead, he put aside his jumbled emotions –freaking out will do no one any good right now– and calmly made his way down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he phoned Gwen's mobile... No answered. He tried his Dad's... Still no answer.

Arthur glanced at his dying phone. It had been roughly forty minutes since the three of them had split up. Arthur made a split-second decision; one that made him squirm with guilt.

After making the phone call, Arthur ran out of his house and into the woods. He wasn't sure where he should go, but he figured the best place to start would be his mother's cottage in the woods.

The whole time he ran, Arthur prayed he was wrong.

x~X~x

Gwen's sobs had quieted. Now, she watched in reserved silence as the brick wall kept increasing in height. It was to her waist when she heard something. At least, she _thought_ she heard something. Uther paid it no heed, continuing to hum something that sounded suspiciously similar to Christmas songs. Gwen contemplated joining him, but ultimately decided against it, fearing for her sanity.

"Forty-five minutes."

"Pardon?" Gwen asked. Was she just imagining it, or did Uther say something?

"Forty-five minutes," Uther reiterated. "Over an hour since we've been here and forty-five mintues till that brother of yours suffocates." Something like a girlish giggle escaped Uther's lips. "And Arthur's on the other side of town. Can't charm him now, can you?"

"Charm him? I don't… What?" Gwen looked at the man in bewilderment.

Uther paused in his work, looking up at Gwen in what seemed to be exasperation. "Oh don't play dumb with me, girl. I know you charmed Arthur. Getting him to fall for you uses spells and potions. Or perhaps you simply hit him over the head a bit too roughly. Whatever it was, once you're dead, everything will go back to normal. Arthur will be normal again."

"Arthur is perfectly fine the way he is now," Gwen shot back. "There's nothing wrong with him."

Uther scowled, "There's _everything _wrong with him! He-"

Something upstairs broke. A sharp shattering noise filling the entire household. Gwen and Uther froze; a look of timid hope in Gwen's eyes, while Uther experienced unbelief and annoyance. He knew it wasn't the police so that meant whoever it was could be dealt with. He grabbed his favorite knife –a kitchen carving knife– and slowly made his way upstairs.

As he reached the first step, he turned to Gwen and said in a nonchalant, amused voice, "Don't go anyway." Then he turned and quietly ascended the stairs.

The moment he was out of Gwen's sights, she struggle and squirmed, trying to loosen her bonds. Out of sheer desperation, she hissed out, "Merlin?" But no answer came to her unsurprised displeasure.

Not even three minutes went by before she heard shouting. And more crashing. Whoever it was, they were giving Uther a hard time. Gwen smiled, mentally cheering the other person on. Maybe she'd get free! But her smile slipped as her mind remembered something vitally important.

_Where was Merlin? _


	4. Chapter 4

**Almost done with this fic! I hope you all enjoyed this! :) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. (Because if I did, there is NO WAY it would've ended like that! *sob*)**

* * *

Arthur cringed as the glass vase fell to the floor, a loud shattering noise that pierced the otherwise quiet cottage.

_So much for being quiet, _he thought hopelessly.

After waiting a moment and hearing no footsteps running in his direction, Arthur tried to relax his tense muscles. It was more difficult than it should have been. God, he really needed to get himself together.

Sighing, Arthur bent down to pick up the larger pieces of the broken vase. It had been his mother's. Actually, practically everything in this cottage belonged to his mother. At a young age, Arthur learned that his father had moved everything that reminded him of his wife into this cottage, which, when she was alive, had also belonged to her. Gaius, the gardener slash guardian of the Pendragon estate (and also part-time medic during Arthur's younger, more injury-prone days), had told Arthur extraordinary stories of his mother, even sharing the location of her cottage. Since he was eight, Arthur would run through the woods and enter this safe haven, pretending he lived here instead of the big, empty mansion. Pretending his mother was still alive. He wasn't sure what she'd be like since she had died upon Arthur's birth, but that never stopped Arthur from imagining a kind, warm, and loving women. (That's how everyone described her too.) More than once, Arthur could've sworn that he felt… Well, maybe not _her_. But it was a presence of some kind and it didn't feel evil or demonic. Whatever it was, Arthur welcomed the presence with a grin, knowing he was safe.

Up until Cleo's death, Arthur always took the time to visit this cottage –even continued in his fantasies, pretending his mother was actually alive– but after Cleo was murdered (the damned maniac _still_ hadn't been caught, even after two years), Arthur found he just couldn't come anymore. Having two deaths touching his life had been two deaths too many. He'd rather forget about everything, ignoring everyone who tried to reach out to him, then face his feelings. Sure, you could call him scared and in denial…as long as you didn't say it to Arthur's face. If you did, you better be ready to place raw meat on that bruised eye. Of course then the Lyonesse's came to town, bringing with them their son, their lovely daughter Gwen, and their adoptive son, the bumbling idiot _Mer_lin Evens. The bumbling idiot that managed to worm his way into Arthur's guarded heart and bring about a flood of events, including Arthur and Gwen's relationship. Arthur's smiled slipped into a frown. The same Merlin that saved Arthur from becoming as emotionally distant as his father is also the same Merlin who's missing. The same Merlin who Arthur had begun to think of as a little brother. (And if Gwen and he were going to be married one day –Arthur had actually been thinking about that future day, which he had found strange at first since he'd never imagined marrying any of his other girlfriends, even Cleo– then Merlin would be his brother-in-law. His adoptive brother-in-law, but that's just a technicality.)

As Arthur's mind idled, dreaming about the present, past and future, he carefully picked up the sharp pieces of glass without paying much attention to his surroundings. However, at the tiniest creaking sound, Arthur jerked upright, turning head in the direction of the basement door. He gripped the glass tightly in his hand, not realizing it was digging into his skin, drawing blood. Arthur had been hoping –praying really– that his sudden epiphany had been completely and utterly _wrong_. But he knew doors didn't open by themselves. Not when they had been firmly shut moments before.

While Arthur remained stoic on the outside, on the inside he was panicking. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure if this was a good idea. If he was right and the serial killer _had _been using his mother's cottage as a lair, then why the hell was he _here_?!

It felt like the whole room waited in baited breath as the door opened wider. Arthur wasn't sure what to feel when his father's confused face popped out.

The bloodied glass shard slipped from Arthur's hand. "Father?"

"Arthur? What are you doing here?"

Swallowing his nerves, the young adult held up his phone (which was completely dead now, but he wasn't going to mention that fact). "My phone was dying. I needed to get the car charger."

"Yes okay," Uther said slowly. He emerged fully out of the basement, "But what are you doing _here_?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but as his father took a step closer to him, the sun glittered off something shiny in his hands. The light reflected his Arthur's eyes and he flinched. When the temporary blindness disappeared, Arthur glanced at the object in Uther's hand before slowly and resolutely raising his gaze to meet his father's.

"Father, why is that in your hand?"

Uther glanced down at the knife he held in a vice grip. "Don't ignore my questions," he said; his voice hard and guarded.

"Don't ignore _mine_," his son countered. Uther didn't like that. The Arthur of the past two years would never talk back to him in such a way.

"You're supposed to be on the other side of town."

"And you're supposed to be looking for Merlin. _With Gwen_."

Arthur was now off his knees and standing up straight, his posture stiff and his eyes calculating. In turn, Uther had taken a few steps forward and was standing only a few feet away from his son. If he reached out, he was sure he could brush Arthur's shoulders.

"Where is she? Where is Gwen?" Arthur lowered his voice, his tone almost pleading, "Dad… What is going on?" Uther didn't answer, only tightened his grip on the knife. Arthur hadn't called him 'Dad' in a long time. "Please tell me…" Arthur swallowed, "Dad, please tell me that Gwen isn't down there. Tied up or…or dead. Dad, please."

Arthur didn't realize he had dropped his gaze until he found himself staring at his tennis shows, blinking rapidly in order to force the tears that where on the verge of spilling to stay put and _not fall onto his face_.

Finally, Uther answered. His voice was calm and factual, as if he was talking about something so mundane it was boring. Like he was repeating the fact that "No, the chicken is not done yet," after already saying it twenty times.

"Well she's not dead."

Arthur's eyes snapped up, meeting his father's gaze once again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He demanded. Uther didn't answer. "So is she tied up? Father, _what did you do_?"

Strangely, Uther found he was disappointed that his son reverted to calling him 'Father' again. "Arthur, calm down-"

"No, I will _not_ calm down! Tell me what's going on right now or so help me I'll-"

"You'll what?" Uther shouted. "Arthur, think about what you're saying! This isn't you! She's been tricking you! Making you different! They both have!"

It only took a second for Arthur to comprehend what his father was saying. "Both?!" he shouted. "You mean Merlin, too? Is he down there? With Gwen? _Tied up_!?" Anger bubbled up inside Arthur. Usually he tries to control such raw emotions as this anger– the kind that stemmed from pain, betrayal, and fear.

"Yes, he is quite indisposed at the moment," Uther chuckled.

Arthur now understood what it meant when people said they were so angry that they "saw red." With a wordless shout, Arthur tackled his father, crashing into the thin wall so violently that it crumpled around the duo.

"What are you doing?" Uther roared, trying to get the upper hand on his son. He didn't want to hurt him though, simply stop him.

"What did you do to them?" Arthur growled back, his voice full of anger. Uther didn't answer as he and his son wrestled (also kicked and punched), both trying to pinion the other's limbs.

Finally, Uther sat atop his son, effectively pinning him down. "They got what they deserved!" He shouted, both in anger and triumph. "Trying to con you into being their friend. They don't deserve you! They aren't worthy enough!"

"What does that even mean?" Arthur struggled against the weight of his father. "What is it they 'deserve'?!"

"If you don't stop trying to escape I won't tell you!"

Reluctantly, Arthur gradually stopped thrashing. Breathing heavily, he eyed his father with unconcealed suspicion, and a little bit of hate.

Grinning, Uther loosed his hold on his son's arms from a death-grip to a simple bruise-inducing clench. "Death," he replied calmly. "Anyone who tries to take you away from me, tries you _change _you, deserves death."

Arthur froze, wide-eyed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His father didn't _actually _mean that…right? He wasn't actually talking about _murder_, right?

As Uther looked over his son, his grin turned into a frown. "Arthur, your lip…and your shirt…" He didn't like this. Arthur's lip was busted and his shirt sleeve was torn. His knuckles were scrapped and a bruise was forming on his son's shoulder (most likely other places too; Uther could feel his own cuts and bruises starting to emerge). Reaching out to cup his son's face, Uther said, "I'm sorry Arth-"

He never got to finish. Arthur, reacting instinctively, reached for anything he could and aimed it at the man restraining him to the ground. As the object made contact with Uther's face, Arthur rolled away from his father and watched as Uther's head swung so forcefully that his whole body toppled over and into the coffee table's corner. Paralyzed, Arthur stared in horror as his father laid there unmoving.

For perhaps a minute, maybe less, Arthur stared at his father, trying to sort through everything that had happened in those short few minutes. His head felt like someone had tried to jam too many books in one backpack and now the backpack was about to burst. (Being in high school, Arthur knows exactly what it's like to have your backpack explode from all the huge textbooks being forced into it. Granted, Arthur's backpack had been small, but that isn't the point of this analogy.)

When the room swayed, Arthur realized he had gotten to his feet (though he doesn't remember telling his brain to do that). He tried to take a step forward, but found his legs unable to work. He tried again. Arthur's leg buckled under his weight and sent him crashing onto his knees in an ungraceful –and painful– heap. An abrupt, sharp piercing in his right hand reminded Arthur that he was still clutching the object that he had hit his father with. With his now unclenched hand, the young man looked at his hand and saw another blood-stained shard of glass. Looking at his hand, Arthur thought for sure he'd need stiches. He would've stared at it for hours had his brain not reminded him of two very important people.

But first things, first.

"F-Father?" he asked hesitantly. Nervously, Arthur reached a shaky hand to his father's neck, feeling for a pulse. When he found one, Arthur wasn't sure whether he should breathe a sigh of relief or not. There was one thing for certain though. Uther Pendragon was out cold. And he had Merlin and Gwen trapped in the basement. Arthur didn't waste any more time as he sprinted to the door, wrapping his bloody hand in a ripped piece of his shirt for protection. He prayed that he would find his friends alive.

x~X~x

The slamming of a door and the pounding footsteps on the stairs startled Gwen. Whoever it was, they must be angry and judging from their quick pace, it must be urgent (whatever 'it' is, that is). Fear climbed its way into Gwen's throat. What if it was Uther again? If he's this mad, what will he do? Or what if it isn't Uther, but someone worse? What if it's-

"Arthur?!" Gwen cried out, her voice a mixture of confusion and relief.

The man froze, his blue eyes widening at the scene he saw before him before narrowing those same eyes in rage.

Gwen was tied up. _Tied up. _How could his father do this? She looked so frightened, so innocent. She was like an angel, looking as though someone forcefully dragged her out of heaven to hurt her, to bruise her perfect caramel skin. Arthur would make them pay. Whoever dared even _think _about touching her would have a major trip to the ER.

In the back of his head, Arthur knew his father was to blame, but he also knew that he shouldn't focus on his father right now. Gwen needed help. She needed _Arthur's _help, and there was no way he was going to deny her that.

Another reason Arthur didn't want to think of his father was because the word _insane _would quickly follow after. It's not hereditary, right? Being insane…

_Stop that_, Arthur ordered himself. He jumped over the railing and ran over to his girlfriend.

"Gwen! Gwen oh my God! Are you hurt? What happened? What did he do to you?" Arthur gently grabbed Gwen's face, examining her eyes for any pain. Then, while still cupping her face, he frantically looked over her body, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Anything that might mean… Well, that list could go on and on (and many of the items on said list would cause Arthur to become very murderous, very quickly).

"Fine," Gwen choked out. "I'm fine now." Tears ran down her face, but she was also smiling. Arthur couldn't help but take a moment to smile too. After a second of happiness, Arthur allowed a portion of his franticness to return. He reached for the scalpel he saw out of his peripheral and felt the heat of ire when he saw Gwen flinch.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured. "It's okay, I'm just ganna-"

"No, it's fine," Gwen whispered. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Arthur waited until her eyes were open again to cut through the ropes.

It took only a few minutes for the foul ropes to be completely severed. Gwen rubbed her wrists, trying to circulate the blood; she hated when a part of her body fell asleep and began tingling. The reasons behind it this time made her feel sick.

As Arthur helped her across the brick wall, he tentatively asked, "Did… Did my father really do this? To you?"

Sitting on the short wall, about to jump down, Gwen ducked her head, avoiding Arthur's questioning yet tender gaze. She knew that would answer his question as perfectly as if she was speaking, but Gwen didn't know if she could verbally say it. It was only a word –one simple, small word– but couldn't bring herself to admit to Arthur his father was truly insane. Despite being tough and seemingly distant, Arthur loved his father very much. (Or at least he did until today, but Gwen wasn't sure what Arthur's feelings toward Uther were at this very moment.)

After a moment's pause, Gwen slid off the ledge. The moment Gwen's feet touched the ground on the other side of the bricks, her legs buckled. Arthur hugged her tighter into his chest and glided down with her. Gwen buried her face in his chest, the realization that she was free finally overwhelming her. She was safe now. Arthur had held Gwen secure in his arms, and she knew that he would never let her go. He would protect her. Arthur would always protect her and those he loved…even if they happened to be a skinny, sarcastic idiot – according to Arthur. They were the perfect trio. They were a family. Two were soul brothers, two were soul mates (and two were adoptive siblings). It was as if the three of them were meant to be friends; meant to be as close as they were. Nothing could separate Arthur, Gwen, and…

"_Merlin_," Gwen whispered into Arthur's chest, her voice laced with horror. She pulled back to look her lover in the eyes, her own eyes round with terror. "Arthur, Merlin… He's here. Uther said he got him and he's…" She looked around the empty room.

_But it isn't really empty, is it? _Her brain reminded her.

"Merlin?" Arthur's breath came out strained. Gwen saw his Adam's apple contracting and she knew he was scared. She also knew Arthur would never admit to being so distraught over _Mer_lin; after all, the two boys were always bickering and teasing each other. Sometimes, Gwen would insert her own banter by calling them an "old married couple." It would shut them up for a few minutes, but then they were at it again.

Gwen wouldn't have it any other way. She loved both her boys. (And yes, there are _her _boys. Just like Rory and The Doctor are Amelia Pond's boys.)

"Where?" Arthur continued. Still holding his girlfriend tightly, Arthur swerved his head, hoping to see the younger boy.

Gwen nearly burst into tears at Arthur's hopeful tone.

"Wall," she whispered. "In the wall…"

The arms encircling Gwen stiffened. "In the…?" but Arthur never finished the breathless repetition of Gwen's statement. For what seemed like hours, though it could only have been a minute, Arthur was as still as a statue. Even his chest seemed frozen. Then, quite suddenly, Arthur stood up, and had he not been holding Gwen so tightly, she would slipped from his arms.

Arthur scoured the room with frantic, wild eyes. "Break the walls," he managed to say. "We need to break the walls." Arthur made no further effort to move; he felt paralyzed.

"How?" Gwen forcedly detached herself from Arthur's warm, comforting embrace. It wouldn't do anyone –namely Merlin– any good if they stayed locked in an embrace. "How, Arthur? Uther said…" Gwen swallowed and shook her head. Another thing she couldn't say. Couldn't bring herself to say. How much time has passed? Is Merlin even still ali-

_No_. Gwen clenched her teeth in hopes that the motion would cause her thoughts to stop their direction they were going in. _Don't think that. Don't you dare think that. He's alive. Merlin. Is. Alive._

Arthur's voice broke Gwen's concentration.

"That!" He pointed to a sledgehammer lying casually against the stairs. "We can use that!"

Arthur rushed over and grabbed the destructive device. Gwen found another one closer to her and grabbed that. She was surprised at how heavy it was.

Arthur stared at the walls, deducing which spot would be where his father… Where Uther would… Try to…to _suffocate_ Merlin. Just like he tried to suffocate Gwen. His father… A wave of nausea pulsated through Arthur. He still couldn't believe his father would-

Taking a deep breath, Arthur forced all unnecessary thoughts out of his head. He needed all his concentration to find Merlin. Nothing should distract him. He walked over to a stop on the wall opposite him. This particular spot was different from the rest of the wall. There were five spots where the bricks clashed with one another. Six if you counted the area that was only half covered. (Arthur would never have forgiven himself if he had arrived too late and found Gwen completely in the wall rather than half in.)

Emotions swarmed Arthur. He was angry and frustrated, nauseated and scared. There were so many feelings that Arthur wasn't sure what all their names were. All these emotions came with swiftly and wish such intensity that Arthur felt like they were crushing him, suffocating him. Unable to holdback his outrage, Arthur let out a yell and simultaneously brought down the sledgehammer, letting it make contact with the wall. After a few hits, Arthur used his hands to separate the loosened bricks, ignoring the pain emitting from his right, cut up palm.

Inside the makeshift tomb was a body. _An actual body._ Arthur felt so sick. There was an genuine human body inside these walls. _Human body_. It wasn't Merlin's, thank God.

Arthur pressed his hand against his mouth in an effort to keep the vomit down.

_It was a human body._

And God, it smelled.

Arthur hurried to the second area with foreign bricks. He repeated the same process as the first. There was another body, but again, it wasn't Merlin's.

Gwen was having difficulty swinging the heavy hammer. When enough bricks were broken and shattered, Gwen used her hands and copied the same motion she saw Arthur doing. What she saw behind the bricks made her freeze. There was a mop of black hair and a familiar unconscious face.

"Arthur!" She shouted. "Arthur here!" Gwen practically screeched, her voice betraying the sense of desperation she felt. Within seconds, Arthur was by her side, using his own strength to remove the rest of the bricks (both by use of the sledgehammer and his hands).

The sight they saw was a terrifying one.

"Arthur," Gwen sobbed. "Arthur, he's not breathing."


	5. Chapter 5

**Last chapter! It's been great guys :) I actually have two more fics in mind for Merlin, both I have already begun writing! :D**

* * *

"_Arthur," Gwen sobbed. "Arthur's he's not breathing."_

"Quick, grab the scalpel!" Arthur shouted. He was surprised he had said that. The moment he had seen Merlin's slack face and limp body, Arthur's mind turned to mush. He wasn't breathing. _Merlin wasn't breathing._ That could've been Gwen too. Gwen could've been trapped inside a wall suffocating– _dying_. As soon as Gwen returned, holding out the scalpel with a shaky hand, Arthur's mouth inadvertently barked out orders again. (How his mouth was working while his brain wasn't made no sense to Arthur, but he didn't question it since apparently –at the current moment– Arthur's mouth was smarter than his brain.)

"Cut the ropes. I'll catch him," he heard his mouth promise.

Gwen nodded, reaching for Merlin. She was trembling at first, but as she continued sawing the ropes, Arthur noticed Gwen's shaking decrease until it stopped all together. She became more determined with each stroke of the blade. After an antagonizing wait –which felt like hours though Arthur was sure barely a minute went by– the ropes were severed and Merlin crumbled beneath his own weight, into Arthur's waiting arms. Picking up the boy's legs, Arthur carried Merlin bridal-style to the more capacious part of the room, the center, where he laid him down gently and began searching for a pulse frantically.

"_Please, please, please, please,_" Gwen was whispering. Her hands were clasped in front of her lips in a prayer-like gesture.

Arthur nearly sobbed when he found it, palpitating at the base of Merlin's neck. It was weak, so very, very weak, but Arthur had found Merlin's pulse. He allowed himself to delay for one moment, looking up into Gwen's terrified brown eyes to convey everything he found, and felt, without the use of words (for Arthur knew that if he tried, he'd only choke on the bittersweet taste of _He's alive, but I don't know for how much longer_). Gwen nodded, discerning what Arthur's eyes were telling her instantaneously. Without wasting another second, Arthur began CPR, grateful that he actually paid attention during the class his father had forced him to go to.

_One, two, three, four, five, six…_

On the other side of her brother, Gwen collapsed onto her knees, unable to stand from the sheer weight of dread and apprehension, and reached for Merlin's hand. "Come on, come on," she whispered– _begged_.

…_twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty._

Arthur tilted Merlin's head back, pinched the pale nose closed, and pressed their lips together, breathing a mouthful of air into Merlin's lungs. He paused before forcing another breath of air down his friend's throat and going back to the motionless chest.

_One, two, three, four…_

"Come on, you idiot," Arthur muttered angrily. "_Breathe_."

…_twenty-nine, thirty_.

Again, Arthur tilted Merlin's head back and blew in oxygen that Merlin's body so desperately needed. It occurred to Arthur how young Merlin looked. He was only a year younger, but right now, he looked years younger. More like a mere child of twelve or thirteen than a sarcastic, fiery seventeen-year old. Merlin had always been tall for his age (or so Arthur heard), but it was his face and lanky build that caused others to see Merlin as someone innocent and young, someone who needed to be protected. (And while Arthur does, discreetly, agree with this belief some of the time, he also knew Merlin could take care of himself and didn't need people doting over him all the time; albeit, Merlin wasn't very good at taking care of himself, but it was better than nothing.) The question still remained: how could anyone even think of hurting him? How could _his father _hurt him? Not just hurt, murder. Uther tried to _murder_ Merlin and he seemed pleased at Merlin's potential demise. Gwen's too.

Tears stung Arthur's eyes, making everything blurry. His _father _tried to kill his own son's best friend _and_ girlfriend. Thankfully, Arthur saved Gwen in time, but will Merlin be so lucky? He looked like death and Arthur was doing everything in his power not to collapse onto Merlin's skinny body, crying and holding his friend tightly.

That was why he hated showing his true feelings; Arthur wasn't in control of himself when he was extremely emotional, and without his stoic outer shell, Arthur felt weak and vulnerable. But this time, Arthur would gladly take feeling pathetic all the time over completely useless. Right now, he'd give _anything_ to just see Merlin's chest rise and fall. With this in mind, Arthur went to do the second ventilation.

Then it happened.

The miracle both teenagers had been praying for.

Right as Arthur leaned in towards his apneic friend for the second time, a ragged gasp of air emitted from Merlin's mouth followed by what sounded like scratchy, chest-rattling coughs. Arthur pulled away, staring as his friend struggled to breathe. Relief washed over Arthur and left him feeling dizzy and weightless. If Arthur looked down and found himself floating, he wouldn't have been surprised; that's how light he felt.

He had done it. Merlin was breathing again.

"Merlin!" Gwen reached out to grasp her brother's shoulder, but Merlin was already making a feeble effort to turn towards her. As soon as he was on his side, Gwen's adoptive brother attempt to vomit, but because of his empty stomach, all the boy could do was dry heave, eventually bringing up bile. Gwen, though worried for Merlin, was thankful she was sitting closer to his hips, nowhere near his mouth.

In anxious silence, Gwen and Arthur waited until Merlin had finishing coughing and retching his stomach out. After a few minutes, Merlin gave an exhausted groan and rolled onto his back, unaware of his surroundings. His eyes never opened once, unless you counted the fluttering of his eyelids. Finally, Arthur couldn't take it anymore.

"Merlin? Merlin!" The blonde teen reached out to shake his friend's shoulder.

As a hand brushed his shoulder, Merlin's eyes flew open, sightless. He couldn't see anything; everything was pitch-black, but Merlin knew. He knew there were things in the darkness. Things that wanted to get to him; to hurt him, to _kill_ him.

"N-no!" he shouted weakly. Merlin tried to scramble back from the touch, but only managed to collide into something that was both soft and firm. The shape and feel of the creature felt familiar, but Merlin was too terrified to understand that the shape was human, and he was feeling the fabric of his sister's favorite shirt. "Stay a-away!" he cried out, not realizing it was only Gwen. Merlin's voice never rose above a hoarse whisper, but the terror he expelled was painstakingly genuine. His eyes were wide with fear; his arms were shaking as they supported most of his weight. Again, he scrambled away from the human contact, his eyes seeing, but not comprehending. This time, as he backed into yet paradox mixture of soft and firm, the thing grabbed hold of Merlin and didn't let go.

"Merlin, you need to stop!"

"Let me go!" Merlin begged, his voice breaking. He tried to extract himself from the embrace, but he was too weak and disoriented to make much –or any– progress. "Please!"

Arthur clutched Merlin to his chest, circling his arms around the freighted boy. Without realizing, he began rocking back and forth. "Merlin, calm down," he whispered in Merlin's ear. "It's me. It's Arthur."

Even though Arthur couldn't see his face, he knew Merlin was crying. He could feel the tears fall onto his wrists; he could see the tears in Gwen's own eyes as she watched the struggle take place. She made no effort to help Arthur; she knew that no matter what she tried, it would only end up doing more damage than good. Merlin grabbed at Arthur's hands and arms, trying to pry them off his chest with the little strength he had.

"I don't wanna die," Merlin sobbed.

"You won't," Arthur insisted. "You're safe, Merlin. _You're safe_."

"…Safe…?"

Gradually, Merlin stopped grabbing at Arthur's hands, opting to rest his own trembling hands over the arm that was slung across his upper chest instead. They sat there for a minute, Merlin trying to pinpoint where exactly he's heard the voice before and why he felt reassured and impervious when hearing it. Finally, Merlin remembered.

"Ar-Arthur?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," Arthur's voice cracked. "It's me; you're safe."

"Safe," Merlin echoed, realizing that, now that Arthur was here, he really was safe. Uther couldn't get to him if he was in Arthur's arms. Merlin closed his eyes and relaxed against his friend, his breathing finally evening out.

Gwen watched as she saw her boyfriend finally calm her brother. Merlin had been hyperventilating, looking every bit like a mouse caught in an owl's talons, but now his terrified visage morphed into one of immense mitigation. More tears spilled down Merlin's cheeks, but the small smile on his face told Gwen that her brother wasn't reliving constant terror anymore.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked, deciding that she's waited long enough and she wants to hold Merlin now.

"Gwen?" Merlin croaked out, sounding slightly confused, yet enormously relieved. He opened his eyes and tried to detach himself from Arthur's chest. Seeing he was struggling, Arthur helped Merlin sit up straight so he could look his sister in the eyes. "Y-you're alright."

He didn't say it as a question, but Gwen answered like it was one anyway. "Yeah," Gwen swallowed, trying to keep from completely falling apart. "I'm alright."

Gwen moved over to Merlin and Arthur. As soon as she got close enough, Merlin reached out for her, grabbing her neck and burying his head in it. She returned the hug, also wrapping her arms around his neck. Through her blurry vision, she could see the tears falling out of Arthur's eyes as well. She wasn't surprised when Arthur scotched closer to the embracing siblings and put his arms around both them. Gwen loved the feeling of Arthur's hands circling her back, comforting her. She remembered receiving hugs similar to this by her parents when she was younger. She and Elyan would be in the middle while her mum and dad were on the outskirts. They called it an Oreo Hug.

The three of them stayed there until the loud sound of rushing footsteps echoed throughout the house above them. The two teenagers felt Merlin stiffen between them. They heard shouts of "Look over there!" and "Check that room!" One man, sounding very close to the basement door, shouted, "Down here!"

As the basement door was slammed open, Merlin openly whimpered and shrank into Arthur's chest.

"It's okay, Merlin," Arthur soothed. He removed his hands from Gwen's back to Merlin's body, encircling the boy once again. "It's just the police."

Gwen, who was rubbing Merlin's arms, gave Arthur a questioning look. "Police?" she asked.

Nodding, Arthur explained how he had called 999 before running out into the woods. "Took them bloody long enough to find this place though," he grumbled.

When the police and ambulance showed up, it took a great deal of persuading to get Merlin to let go of Arthur. Gwen managed to get him to release Arthur, only to have Merlin latch onto her. Eventually, Arthur coaxed Merlin into going into the ambulance, promising Gwen could go with him and Arthur would catch up soon.

"What will you be doing?" Gwen asked.

"I'm pretty sure they're ganna question us," Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes held a darker motive. "And I've got a few questions to ask them myself."

x~X~x

"What do you mean he's not there?!" Arthur demanded. He had just finished giving his statement not two minutes ago. He was ready to leave and be with Gwen and Merlin, but something just _had _to go wrong, didn't it?

The policewoman hardly seemed fazed by Arthur's outburst. "I mean exactly what I said. Uther's body was not in this house when we came in."

Arthur couldn't believe how composed she was. This wasn't the weather they were talking about! His _father_ was still out there. Out in the _world_. The same world where Merlin and Gwen were currently in, riding to the hospital.

"How can you be so calm about this!?"

The policewoman smiled kindly at Arthur, as if she dealt with people who'd gone through "extreme emotional trauma just like you have."

"Arthur, it's okay. From the amount of blood on the floor, we can confidently say that your father is quite disoriented and perhaps very weak. Hitting a table's edge isn't exactly good for the brain, you know. He's probably wondering in the woods right now in a state of utter confusion; we'll find him soon enough."

Arthur was too exhausted to answer her, knowing that whatever would come out of his mouth would only spark an argument with Officer Clay. So Arthur simply nodded and asked if he could visit his friend now. He was given the green.

He wanted to leave immediately, go straight over to the hospital; but Arthur couldn't leave yet. How could he face his friends knowing their kidnapper was still out there? Spotting the one person who could help him, Arthur made an impromptu decision and walked over to the man in charge.

"Sherriff?" Arthur called out. The man turned around, and seeing who is was, gave Arthur his full attention.

Arthur explained to the Sherriff, who used to be a friend of his father, what exactly he wanted– to keep the fact that Uther was still out there under wraps. Arthur didn't want Merlin or Gwen worrying about their insane kidnapper (after today, Arthur no longer associated himself in any way with the insane mad who nearly murdered his friends). After wasting precious minutes –minutes Arthur could be using to go to Gwen and Merlin– trying to diplomatically persuade him, Arthur finally resorted to begging, which surprisingly did the trick.

"Besides," Sherriff Leon said with confidence, "I'm sure he'll be apprehended shortly. And where he's going, he might as well be dead."

Arthur flashed him a smile of pure gratitude. Leon –everybody called him by his first name– was about ten years older than Arthur and had always been a friend. In fact, Leon's whole family used to have dinner quite often in the Pendragon estate, not so much after Leon's father had passed away (Leon's father had been very close to Uther) and after Leon was promoted to Sherriff about three years ago, the dinners more or less ceased for good.

Hailing a taxi, Arthur headed over to the General Hospital. The twenty-two minutes it took was agonizing. When Arthur finally arrived, he'd been told that Merlin and Gwen had already given their statements and were in a private room; the nurses warned Arthur not to mention the kidnapping at all since they'd prefer it if their patient didn't have any nightmares. From the way their eyes kept sneaking glances toward room 471, Arthur got the feeling the nurses were sporting a small crush on his friend. There was no way Arthur was going to share this; Merlin's ears were big enough without adding hot air to inflate them even wider.

Honestly, the warning was completely redundant. Arthur had no intentions of mentioning their previous endeavor for as long as all three of them lived. Some psychologist even had the nerve to give Arthur his card, saying if he ever wanted to talk about his father to just call. Arthur had said a curt "Thank you" before stuffing the card into his back pocket, intending to never pull it out again. (Two weeks later found Arthur calling that number after much insisting from Gwen and Merlin, who both said that Arthur _had_ to talk about it and it was helping both of them begin to 'move on,' which Arthur found out to be pleasantly true.)

Sitting on Merlin's hospital bed, with her back towards Arthur, was Gwen. Her clothes were rumbled and dirty and from the way she held her shoulders, Arthur knew she was exhausted, but Arthur still thought she looked gorgeous. The strength and courage she displayed down in the basement brought a smile to Arthur's face; he really loved that girl. After a moment, Arthur continued walking into the hospital room and sat on the other side of Gwen. Merlin's hospital bed gave a creak as he sat down, but Arthur ignored it, choosing to pat Merlin's knee and grin.

"I just gave him a sedative," an older nurse said. Her scrubs were plain, nut her smile was kind. "You should be asleep soon," she informed Merlin before quietly walking out the room, giving the three friends the space they needed.

Merlin looked upon him with sleepy eyes. "They wanna keep me. Just for the night," he said, his voice slurring slightly.

Arthur nodded his understanding. "And tomorrow, we'll all three go out to Adventure Island. My treat." He had thought about it during his entire ride.

Merlin's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, sounding just like a little kid on Christmas. Arthur nodded once again, grinning at Merlin's enthusiasm. "You're the best, Arthur!" Arthur was sure that, had it not been for the fact that Merlin was exhausted and wired to a heart monitor, he would've lunged at Arthur, giving him the biggest, and girliest, hug in the history of male-kind.

"Of course I'm the best," Arthur said, using what Merlin calls his "prat voice." (After what they'd been through, Arthur was pretty sure he wouldn't have minded receiving a massive, bone-crushing hug –even if it was girly– from his conscious friend.)

Merlin's lips twitched in what Arthur assumed was meant to be a grin. He barely managed to mumble, "Don't be such a prat," before the sedatives finally took its course and dragged Merlin into a blissful sleep.

Arthur looked over to Gwen, who was watching him carefully. "Adventure Island? In Essex?"

"The very one."

"But Arthur, you can't do that."

Arthur frowned, "Why not? It's not like I'm going to go broke. There a ton of money in the bank, and that's just what my fath- what's been saved for me since my birth."

Gwen looked at him with big eyes, "Arthur you don't have to do-"

"Yes I do, Gwen," Arthur interrupted. "Not just for Merlin, but for you and for me." Arthur grabbed hold of Gwen's hands, looking her in the eyes, "Gwen, I _have _to get away for a while. Staying here… it would be too much. And I don't want to go alone. I already know Merlin wants to come and you are most certainly invited, but if you really don't want to go to Adventure Island in Essex, I'll be fine with just Merlin around. Though he's not really the pleasant company you are."

Gwen blushed at Arthur's words. "I… Well… I'll have to ask my parents…"

Arthur wanted to point out that since she was eighteen, she didn't need to ask for permission, but he didn't. He knew Gwen would feel better asking for permission, and he was pretty sure her parents wouldn't say no anyway.

"Alright," Arthur said, grinning. "Tell them we'll be gone for the week. And don't worry about expenses. I've got it."

At first, Gwen looked like she was about to argue, but then she sighed, leaned over and kissed him. Arthur began kissing back and soon, the world around them melted and it was just them. They broke apart minutes later, when Arthur couldn't contain his laughter.

"What?" Gwen asked, her pupils still wide from their kissing.

Arthur shook his head. "I must be exhausted," he said, trying –and failing– to contain his laughter. "All I could think about was Merlin complaining about how we're snogging right above him without considering that fact that maybe he doesn't want to see us getting it on."

Gwen looked quite affronted, but the façade only lasted for a moment before she, too, was laughing.

"I think we're both exhausted," she said, her eyes watering.

x~X~x

Arthur and Gwen were ushered out of Merlin's room by the nurses for fear of "waking the poor boy." Leaving Gwen's parents to keep watch over Merlin, Arthur and Gwen went to the Lyonesse household to shower, change, and get a good night's sleep. Much to Arthur's displeasure, they arrived bright and early the next morning, already packed –Arthur packed for Merlin, with Gwen keeping a watchful eye on what he put in the bag– for the week ahead of them. It was well into the afternoon when the hospital finally released Merlin.

"What took so long?" Arthur had complained.

Merlin smirked, "The nurses kept doting over me. It was quite nice, actually."

Then Arthur had ruffled Merlin's hair saying the nurses were only fawning over him because he looked so much like a child, while Merlin kept insisting on his manliness. Gwen only laughed as she hailed a taxi to get them to the airport. Her boys were back.

x~X~x

_Twelve Years Later…_

"_Mer_lin, care to explain something to me?"

"Mhmm?" Merlin asked, spooning another mouthful of Gwen's wonderful homemade soup.

"You've got a job, right? History professor or something, right?" Arthur sat on the opposite side of Merlin, glowering at him over the table.

"Yes, and you're a fencing instructor. What's your point?"

Arthur huffed. "My point is you're twenty-nine and still living in my house!"

"It's Gwen's house too," Merlin pointed out, scooping more soup into his mouth.

"That's the point, _Mer_lin. This is _Arthur and Gwen's_ house. Not Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin's house."

Merlin shrugged, "Gwen doesn't seem to mind."

"Of course she doesn't! She's kind like that."

"So you're saying you're not kind?" Merlin asked, trying to hide his sly smile by eating more soup.

"Of course I'm kind, _Mer_lin. I'm one of the kindest people out there."

"Good. Then I guess I'll stay."

Arthur's mouth hung agape for a second before he groaned and rubbed the side of his face. "I can't believe I walked into that one."

"_I_ can," Merlin snorted.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" came the automatic response. Merlin snickered before schooling his face as Arthur looked up to glare at him. Soon, they were both laughing so hard, Merlin actually fell out of his chair, which caused more laughter to erupt from the man sitting opposite him. The mirth weaned down slowly, taking about ten minutes for the two friends to finally stop breaking out in fits of giggles. They both exhaled, grinning like madmen at each other. After a moment, they forced themselves to look away before they began tittering like underage school girls again. They looked around the house, finding something –anything– to distract them.

"Exactly what is it about this place that you just find so appealing, _Mer_lin?" Arthur mused aloud. It wasn't a very spacious house, but it was enough for two. Of course, since there were _three _people living inside it, it was a bit cramped. Not by much, but not as roomy as Arthur would've liked.

"You mean besides the free rent?" Merlin asked with the familiar impish glint in his eyes.

"Don't tempt me," Arthur threatened, but it was only in jest and Merlin –unfortunately– knew that. If Arthur tried to get Merlin to pay rent, he wouldn't hear the end of it from Gwen. She'd be going on and on about how Merlin's Arthur's best friend and his brother-in-law and it's not like Merlin would take up much room and Arthur just didn't want to hear it.

Merlin chuckled. "I just find it amusing, that's all."

"…Find _what _amusing?" Arthur asked, not sure he really wanted to know the answer.

Merlin smirked and Arthur _knew _he wasn't going to like the answer. "You remember Jordan and Jackie, the twins I tutor?" Arthur nodded. "Well, their aunt, you remember their aunt, right? Redhead, green eyes, legs that go on for miles? Twenty-six, twenty-seven I think?"

"Get on with it already," Arthur interrupted exasperated, but a small smile proved that he was –somewhat– happy for his friend. Merlin's finally got himself interested in a girl.

Sticking out his tongue, Merlin continued with a smirk still on his face, "Well, she finds it simply _adorable_ that my precious parents allow their penniless son to live with them."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up so far, they disappeared beneath his bangs. "_What_?"

"Apparently, she finds that _hot_. And she's always commenting on you and Gwen, calling you Mr. and Mrs. Evens." A big cheeky grin is plastered all over Merlin's face, "You two never even realized."

"_What_?" Arthur repeated, still in shock.

"It makes my day every Thursday," Merlin smirked. "And so do her short dresses."

"_MER_LIN!" Arthur shouted, standing up so quickly the chair fell backwards. "And you never thought to correct her?!"

"Well, I didn't realize what she was saying until much later." Merlin at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed at that.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "You're such an idiot, you know that?"

"And you're a prat," Merlin quipped automatically. "But you can't really blame Andria. The first time she saw you, you were half-asleep and hadn't shaved in days, wearing a sweatshirt and your grandpa pants."

Gritting his teeth, Arthur ignored the 'grandpa pants' bits. They were _not _grandpa pants. They were comfortableand Arthur had been sick that day; that gives him some entitlement to wear whatever he wanted, especially since he was _in his own house_. "Oh, so this is my fault?" Arthur asked instead.

"You say 'fault' like there's something wrong. I see nothing wrong."

Arthur just stared at Merlin, giving him the biggest 'you-are-such-an-idiot' face Merlin has ever seen.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"Oh just… Go teach your classes. Or something."

Merlin grinned and went to dump his bowl in the sink. Coming around to Arthur, he gave his brother-in-law a kiss on the check. "See ya later, _dad_."

Merlin risked staying a moment to wink at Arthur, but he still managed to escape out the door before the sputtering Arthur could gather his wits. Even outside, Merlin could hear the outraged –yet slightly amused– voice of Arthur screeching, "_MER_LIN!"

The named man grinned.

As he walked to the Underground entrance, Merlin felt the familiar sensation of being watched. Like usual, he looked around, but saw no one near him. Merlin shrugged it off like he normally did. After all, there was no reason for anyone to be following him. Uther was dead. Arthur had said so and that meant there was no need to worry about him.

Tossing a few pounds into the empty guitar case, Merlin smiled and said "Cheers," at the homeless musician who always played on this street. Wendell always smiled back.

Merlin never realized that someone actually was watching him. Watching and waiting. The man in the shadows was always waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, to bring down his enemy. But he could never find the opportunity. He used look-a-likes to settle his sanguinary fantasies, but they never fully worked. He wanted to feel _their_ blood on his hands and to see _their_ eyes as the life drained out of them. He didn't care about the doppelgängers, who sometimes only vaguely resembled the objects of his rage. But what he wanted most was to see his son smile at him. Just once. Just once he wants to see his son's smile. He would do anything to see Arthur look at him and grin.

The man watched as the black-haired boy –who was now a man– disappeared in an entrance to the Underground.

_Next time_, he always told himself. _Next time I'd get them_.

But he never did. He only watched. Watched as his son lived the life he wanted, with his pathetic girlfriend-now-wife, Gwen, and the sorry excuse for a man, Merlin. He watched as his son was happy. Arthur was happy without him, and that caused the man to feel as though he were drowning. Try as he might, he could never reach the surface, never reach freedom. He was suffocating with all the hurt and anger he felt. He was nowhere near water, yet he felt as though he were drowning on the very air he breathed.


End file.
